


Consummation

by Nalyra



Series: Flipping platonically [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Bottom Hannibal, Bottom Will, Canon Compliant, Emotional Baggage, Explicit Sexual Content, Fanart, First Kiss, First Time, Flipping, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Power Play, Shameless Smut, Top Hannibal, Top Will, flip flop sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 23:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10398084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra
Summary: "Will gasps and then undulates slightly under the pressure, his eyes on Hannibal’s, watching as the pupils dilate slightly, the fingers forcing another moan from Will, freely given this time. Hannibal is perched on the motel’s shabby beds next to him, thighs slightly touching and it is not the first time Will can feel the shiver of want between them, not the first time Hannibal must have been able to smell it on him, but the first time they are alone and healed and relatively safe. And finally without the wheelchair again. At last."....Or how the first time for them results in flip flop sex.





	

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so BRYAN SAID SO (https://twitter.com/BryanFuller/status/841783140179890176).
> 
> And IDK, it's pretty hard to marry that to the powerplay these two have, and of course I just cannot write it without.  
> *shakes head at self*
> 
> More or less a PWP with a itsy bitsy teeny weeny bit of story.  
> Hope you like!
> 
> (Adapted the tags a bit in case people don't know the term... yet^^)

There is a sharp pain as Hannibal’s fingers work on the scar tissue in Will’s right shoulder, still not as mobile as before, even though the wound itself has healed, months ago. Will winces and Hannibal shoots him a quick look, refusing to let up, his fingers digging even harder. 

Will gasps and then undulates slightly under the pressure, his eyes on Hannibal’s, watching as the pupils dilate slightly, the fingers forcing another moan from Will, freely given this time. Hannibal is perched on the motel’s shabby beds next to him, thighs slightly touching and it is not the first time Will can feel the shiver of want between them, not the first time Hannibal must have been able to smell it on him, but the first time they are alone and healed and relatively safe. And finally without the wheelchair again. At last. 

He licks his lips, watching as Hannibal tries and fails not to look, still pressing his fingers in. Will grunts when another sharp lance of pain hits, hissing in amused annoyance. Hannibal looks at him for a moment, eyes narrowing, though his tone stays neutral.

„Is something funny, Will?“

Will flashes him a smile, enjoying how the fingers gentle on his skin now, still massaging but slowly segueing into caresses.

„I just thought that…“

He hesitates, something in him coiling, shifting into anticipation. Hannibal raises his eyes to his, the red sliver around black blatant and intense. Will lips twitch, before he forces the words out, lest he loose his nerve.

„… there must be another way to make me utter these sounds apart from pain.“

A pause between them and then Hannibal presses his left hand fingertips in, harshly, drawing another sighed moan, the pain flaring and yet warming, the meaning of it shifted with intention. Hannibal clicks his tongue, his right hand dropping down without warning, cupping Will through his jeans, voice gravelly.

„I enjoy making you utter these sounds. And -you- … enjoy the implications. “

Will draws a deep breath, forcing himself to breathe slowly, locking their gazes.

„I’m very much aware of that. However…“

He flicks back and forth between Hannibal’s eyes and then pushes his hips up, slowly, pressing into the hand there, voice a whisper. 

„I’m inviting you to try the other way.“

Hannibal’s fingers on his shoulders still, his right hand taking up a slow motion in its stead after a long moment, and Will closes his eyes for a moment, his blood rushing south. The soft, now vaguely circular pressure is enough to make breathing difficult, the fact it has been just so long since another hand touched him warring with the almost stifling realization that it is Hannibal who touches him.

Will drops his eyes to Hannibal’s lips when he reopens them, licking his own and then he leans a bit forward, pushing against the hand on his shoulder, tilting his own chin up, offering. His heart is hammering in his chest, the soft touches never faltering and a part of Will expects to be manhandled and taken unceremoniously, the cracks of Hannibal’s willpower showing in the mask of indifference, visible in the strain around his eyes.

Will hesitates, his brows drawing together, suddenly fed up with the games, and royally so.

„Is cuddling, covered in blood really all you ever wanted, Hannibal?“

The hand stops its motion and Will grins grimly, opening his legs wider, gravity pulling Hannibal’s hand down. There is a sharp inhale and Will grins wolfishly, eyes flashing. 

„I thought not.“

He pushes himself up slightly, hands coming up to thread through Hannibal’s hair, lips hovering now, caressing though barely touching, sending electricity everywhere. He locks eyes with Hannibal’s, almost cross eyed at this distance and uncaring, the words a caress.

„It’s not all -I- ever wanted… but then you already know that, don’t you…“

He does not wait for a response, closing the distance, brushing his lips over Hannibal’s mouth gently for a long second, something in him breaking free, diving in for a full kiss right after, a jolt of arousal running through him when their mouths connect properly. He shifts his mouth slightly, trying out how they will fit, humming when the glide sends tendrils of want through him. 

There is something like a moan and then wet heat, receiving him and Will groans into the suction, his mouth devoured, the hand on his shoulder gliding up to grip his hair, forcefully turning his head to allow for better access. He pushes his hips up, moaning and then it’s like a snap of everything holding them apart, Hannibal finally coming fully to life beside him. The hand between his legs presses inwards and up, once, making Will moan, deeply, before withdrawing, Hannibal pressing forward with his body, and Will falls backwards willingly, pulling him down. Hannibal pushes his knee up where his hand was moments ago and Will chuckles a moan into his mouth, their tongues battling in an age old dance, sending tendrils of fire everywhere.

Will pushes himself up the bed and drags Hannibal with him, resuming the kiss as soon as he can, the feeling of another body so near intoxicating, the cloth on his naked chest chafing. Hannibal thrusts his tongue deep and Will moans, shivering. He lets his hands fall lower and then pulls at Hannibal’s shirt until it rips, an appreciative groan stealing itself out. Hannibal growls into his mouth and then rears up on all fours over Will, divesting himself of the tatters of his shirt, eyes fathomless black. Will snarls at him and fumbles with Hannibal’s belt, cackling when Hannibal has to help. Hannibal pushes his trousers down and then settles back onto Will, returning to his mouth and the kiss is gentler and yet deeper, a slow, intense feeding of energy, the shock of skin on skin enhancing the sensation. 

Hannibal rolls them over and Will slides a bit sideways, wriggling to get his own jeans off without breaking the kiss, sighing into Hannibals mouth when Hannibal pushes the boxers down with the jeans. Hannibal bites at his lower lip and Will breaks the kiss, moaning sharply. Hannibal looks up at him with a wild look on his face, only breaths and intensity between them for a few seconds and then Hannibal grips Will by the waist, pushing him up against the headboard, bending down to bite at Will’s nipples, worrying and soothing them with his tongue. Will holds himself up against the headboard with one hand and presses Hannibals head to his body, eyes closed, hips rolling slowly. He is dimly aware of leaving wet spots on Hannibals stomach and boxers, the hands on his waist tilting them down so the head pushes against skin on every roll. 

Hannibal releases Will’s left nipple with a sharp tug, making him hiss and then Hannibal’s hands drop down to Wills ass, kneading and tugging. Hannibal licks at the spot over Wills breastbone, pressing his tongue in to feel Will’s frantic heartbeat. He pulls back slightly after a moment, his voice breathless and Will is just glad about this raw evidence that it affects him the same way, even though the heavy hardness against Will’s thigh is definite proof. 

„Will. I need to know if you ever…“

Will interrupts, snorting, shaking his head slightly peeved.

„Why does everybody assume I don’t actually know about what I used to be lecturing about?“

He snorts again, this time at himself, adding wryly.

„Not that I thought back then I would literally know about the bloody part of it…“

Hannibal chuckles against his ribcage, dragging his nose along the indents.

„I see.“

Will pushes himself down a bit, pulling Hannibal back gently by his hair to look him in the eyes. He leans close, whispering.

„I was young and wanted to know it all, found I liked it all… I used my gift as you insist on calling it to loose myself in other people for a while.“

Hannibal’s eyes flick back and forth, fathomless deep. He licks his lips and Will wants to bite the plumpness but wants his own answers more, prompting with a soft tug.

„And you?“

Hannibal smiles a wolfish smile, sending shivers down Will’s smile and a rush of excitement through him. Hannibal smirks, his left hand coming forward to smear the precome around Will’s head, making him moan softly.

„I believe I wanted to know it all as well. I very much enjoy sex, however I have mostly used my knowledge as a means of influence, not escape.“

Will snorts, sighing when Hannibals nail presses into the slit for a moment, softly.

„Ahhhhh…. I bet.“

He pushes forward, sighing when the silk of Hannibal’s boxers catches a bit before releasing him. He grins, touching his tongue to his front teeth for a moment.

„I won’t roll over and play submissive, Hannibal.“

Hannibal closes his eyes and groans quietly, hips jerking and he chuckles with Will at this, eyes flashing when he reopens them.

„Not even in jest, mylimasis?“

Will tilts his head at the endearment, not knowing the meaning but gleaning it just fine, not acknowledging it just now. He purses his lips, starting up a rolling motion with his hips again, waits until Hannibal looks up at him before answering, tone darkly teasing.

„Maybe…“

Hannibal smirks, pushing himself up so he can kiss Will again, the intensity toe curling. Will lets his hands wander, skin on skin, letting out a small note of distaste when he encounters Hannibal’s boxers. He bites at Hannibal’s lips, words spoken into his mouth.

„Off.“

He helps Hannibal take it off, sighing when they finally align properly, their cocks gliding softly against each other, lips dragging and tongues licking into each others mouth. Will sighs into Hannibal’s mouth when Hannibal starts to press in and rub circles around the muscle loosen it, the tip of one finger dipping in in intervals, teasing gently. He draws back and licks at the corner of Hannibal’s mouth and then at the corner of his left eye, notes the slight jerk Hannibal cannot contain and grins, drawing back, eyes sparkling.

„Do we have lube?“

Hannibal snarls at him and pushes one finger in, watching in breathless intensity as Will undulates, the dry entry enticing in its own right. And just as bad as a prospect. Hannibal grins, teeth flashing and then reaches up, drawing a small bottle from beneath the pillow. Will moans and bends down for a deep kiss for a moment, before drawing back up, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

„Why do we have lube?“

Hannibal chuckles and then presses in further, bending his finger just so and Will looses the ability to think for a moment, the dry rub against the edge of his prostrate too intense already.

Hannibal comes up a bit, biting playfully at Wills jaw, his voice raw.

„I like to be prepared. And I prefer this for myself as well.“

Will opens his eyes, really looking at the lube for a moment, groaning when he reads the label.

„ID Velvet…. Of course. You pretentious bastard. God forbid you would masturbate with normal lube while on the run.“

Hannibal bites into Will’s throat, hard enough to bruise and Will moans harshly, his cock throbbing. He snatches the lube from Hannibal’s hand, opening it with shaking fingers and lubing them up and then hesitates, eyes searching Hannibal’s.

„What about protection?“

Hannibal stills for a moment, and then looks up, his dark eyes beyond intense for a moment, voice soft steel.

„We will not sleep with other people, therefore I believe it is unnecessary since we are both clean.“

Will raises his eyebrows, stumped for a moment and then he exhales quietly and bends down, the soft touch of his lips to Hannibal’s a stark counterpoint to his two fingers, pressing into Hannibal unrelentingly, drawing a sound that trembles through Will’s consciousness with the effect of an instant addiction. 

He moans with Hannibal, turning and twisting his fingers, the muscle tight and locked, the heat promising to be mind numbing. He works up to three fingers slowly, groaning harshly when Hannibal pushes two into him the moment he pushes in the third, still a burning sensation though lubed up now. They roll their hips against each other, careful not to dislodge until Will cannot stand it anymore, withdrawing from Hannibal with a growl. 

He kneels up and back, panting heavily, and Hannibal throws him a darkly challenging look, rolling onto his stomach slowly, never taking his eyes off of Will. Will grips the base of his cock and tries to calm his breathing, feeling dangerously close to coming already, the coolness of the lube helping just slightly. 

He climbs on top of Hannibal after a moment, holding on all fours, mouthing and nosing at Hannibals neck until he feels Hannibal push his hips up, the silent request understood perfectly. Will lines up gently and carefully, using his weight to slowly push in, the moment that Hannibal’s body gives with a broken moan etching itself into his memory. He groans and pushes his arms under Hannibal’s chest, scratching his nails over the muscles there, flicking at the nipples and then he succumbs to the vague need of claiming, setting up a rhythm, losing himself in the tight heat, the wet slap in the room a sharp counterpoint to the staccato moans of Hannibal’s, an almost surprised cadence of abandonment in them, meeting the thrusts with gusto. Will bites at the meat of Hannibal’s shoulder and slams in, holding, feeling his orgasm hover, about to crash down. 

He withdraws, panting, on all fours above Hannibal who undulates with a tortured moan under him, looking up at him through sweaty bangs, sharp teeth glinting for a moment in a sharklike smile, deliberately crude.

„You can fuck me into oblivion if you wish, Will.“

Will snorts and then lowers his forehead to Hannibal’s sweaty back for a moment, his fingers pressing into the base of his cock again, harshly. He shakes his head, the skin dragging where they touch and then he reaches down, teasing with his fingers, the skin glistening and red, contracting at his touch, feeling the pang of desire in his own body.

„Another time… Now I want to ride you.“

Hannibal closes his eyes for a moment and Will grins, climbing over and pulling at Hannibal’s legs and hips until he is back on his back, looking debauched, and Will wonders for a moment how he must look, flushed, lips bitten, skin sweaty and then it does not matter anymore as he is pulled down, the wet hot heat taking all thoughts.  
He climbs over, tongues battling and moans in surprise when Hannibal pushes him up, one hand in his hair keeping them kissing in the momentum, scuttling until they are both on their knees. Hannibal pulls Will back by his hair, their lips separating with a low, wet smack, their gasped pants loud in the air. 

Will licks his lips and watches Hannibal’s mouth drops open a bit, a small droplet of sweat clinging to Hannibal’s upper lip and Will wants to bite at it, taste it, badly, his hands gliding up Hannibal’s chest, feeling the coarse hair. He exclaims sharply when he is whirled around by his hair and the grip on his hip, both points of contact hurting a bit and then the hand drops from his head, down to his other hip and he is lifted up and backwards, the hot length of Hannibal in his back. 

He groans sharply and throws his head back, letting it rest on Hannibal’s shoulder for a moment, his eyes closing. He smiles, feeling the shift as Hannibal looks down at him, pausing, ghosting a kiss to his lips before lifting Will’s hips up, and Will exhales a shuddering breath, reaching up to thread his fingers through Hannibal’s hair again, anticipating and experiencing the entry with all senses, the unrelenting motion forcing a low, moaned shout out of him. He gasps when Hannibal makes him bottom out, feeling impaled beyond compare, his body burning. 

He tries to breathe through the pain, the dull ache fusing with the furious burn to agonized pleasure as Hannibal shifts slightly, brushing against his prostrate in the process. Hannibal drags his lips along the shell of his ear, voice rumbling.

„Ready?“

Will chuckles, gasping when Hannibal reaches up to squeeze his nipples, hard, forcing the words out, colored by humor.

„For you to fuck me into oblivion?“

He turns his head, looking at Hannibal from the corner of his eyes. He rolls his hips, making them both gasp, his voice dead serious suddenly, a grave counterpoint.

„Only if you touch the smile.“

Hannibal freezes behind him, fingers pressing into Will’s hips harshly. Will licks his lips, his voice hard.

„Touch it.“

He takes his right hand down and pries Hannibal’s hand from his hip when Hannibal does not react, dragging it around and up, pressing it down over the scar tissue there, nerve endings itching under the sweaty heat of Hannibal’s palm. Hannibal’s hand folds and squeezes into a fist on the entry point, only the chest pushing against Will’s back in fast increments betraying Hannibal’s feelings.  
Will closes his eyes and holds the fist there, rolling his hips until Hannibal gasps, his fist twitching. Will pauses and then does it again, gasping in relief when Hannibal opens his hand again, his fingertips gliding over the scar tissue, back and forth, synching up finally with the minute thrusts he starts up slowly. 

Hannibal’s head lowers down and then his teeth lock onto Will’s neck tightly, holding, though not breaking skin and Will relaxes, feeling the turning point in his soul. Hannibal’s hand presses down in the middle of the scar and then snaps his hips up, harshly, unerringly pushing against Will’s prostrate, making him see stars. 

Will looses himself in the rhythm, constant now, the pleasure spiraling out of control way too fast. Hannibal growls into his neck as Will tightens, the hand on his hip going round and gripping him, the rough pull the counterpoint that is just too much, his orgasm a blinding blur of sensations, prolonged by constant grinding at the perfect angle, robbing his breath.

Hannibal pushes him down and pulls him down over the edge of the bed, coming onto his knees behind him, taking him even deeper at this angle and Will screams, oversensitive and loving it. There is a final deep thrust and then Hannibal groans harshly over him and stills, pulsing within Will, the feeling of base possession brutally intimate. He folds down over Will’s back and Will lifts his left hand, pulling Hannibal’s head down, spacing out in the afterglow. 

He does not quite know how long they stay there, only aware that Hannibal pulls out at some point but stays laid out over Will’s back, their mess trickling down between them, inconsequential and unimportant. Hannibal starts to press nips and kisses into Will’s neck at some point, the sensation vaguely tickling and Will laughs quietly, suspiciously content. He rolls over and they land in a heap of limbs on the floor, unceremoniously and Will pulls Hannibal close for another deep kiss, tongues stroking leisurely. He pulls back after a moment, eyes tracking over Hannibal’s face, tone soft.

„It is your scar.“

Hannibal inhales deeply, his eyes flashing, something vulnerable and dark rearing up, kept at bay by sated lust and obsessive devotion.

„I know.“

Will clicks his tongue, voice dark, fingers softly stroking skin, taking the sting out.

„Your pretentious mark of ownership…“

Hannibal raises an eyebrow, obviously intending to object and Will snorts, holding up a hand, voice brooking no argument.

„Don’t. It’s ok. Now. But we won’t hide behind our history again.“ 

He licks his lips, whispering.

„All or nothing.“

Hannibal blinks at him, right hand coming up to trace along Will’s jugular for a moment, pressing in gently but firmly.

„Very well, mylimasis. All or nothing.“

Will smiles softly and then he bends forward, mouthing at Hannibal’s neck, his teeth drawing blood, sealing their fate.

_______________

 

Fanart for this story!!!  
By the incredible @RocioRuizArtist (twitter), capturing the gritty duality and the entwining of 'them' so beautifully.   
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being inspired by my little... obsession!!  
*hugs tightly*

**Author's Note:**

> \----
> 
> Hope you liked *fg*  
> Let me know?!
> 
> Also as a bonus (had to check to use it first) - the tweet and 'my dash did a thing' that made me write this^^:
> 
>  


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